


Knights and Castles

by sophie_mc246



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Assassins & Hitmen, F/F, Lesbian, Magic, Multi, Original Story - Freeform, Princes & Princesses, Soldiers, i hope you enjoy, i just wanted to write some gay stuff, kind of a slow burn??, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 13:31:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophie_mc246/pseuds/sophie_mc246
Summary: A soldier finds herself protecting a spoilt princess from an unknown enemy. Everything was far easier in the barracks she lived in but now she has to find her way through a maze of politics, court rules and, worst of all, the maze of the Pendragon castle





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> urmmm.. hi!! This is all a bit of a mess and a mix of inspiration from lots of my favourite TV shows/books with a few ideas that have been rattling around my head, but I really enjoyed writing it so I wanted to share. Please enjoy!

I swung my sword across my body, impressing my opponent with other show skills I had picked up throughout my army career. In actual combat they would have sucked and ended in my death, but it seemed to get the soldiers on leave excited as the crowd cheered.  
“Impressive.” The oiled and muscular man hissed, “for a girl.” He added as we circled each other in the huge sandy arena.  
I scowled and hissed slightly as I rolled my eyes. “I’d return the insult, if I thought you were man enough.” I answered, earning a growl from the fighter in front of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as the screens glittered with my swinging sword and I sighed at how they lagged five seconds behind my every action.

The giant I was fighting was named Erysichthon, a soldier from the Royal Guard platoon, from house of Myreen. The Royal Guard were a group of idiots, nobles who had been given power which went straight to their head. They liked messing with us ‘normies’, whether it be through beating us up or giving us exercise after exercise to do. As you might have guessed, everyone hated their guts.  
I had been calling him Eric since the start of the tournament, mainly because it pissed him off. He was far over six foot all, maybe even seven, with a warrior’s build and muscles rippling with every movement but he had some intelligence behind those furious brown eyes, I’ll give him that. His tanned and scarred skin was starting to look sweaty rather than oiled, his abs glistening in the midday sun as his dark shoulder length hair started to stick to his face. He had started looking calm and collected, his hair straightened, and his face covered in make up so that he would look good for the cameras. I was happy to say this was no longer the case – his hair was wavier than a soldier on Jun, his make up had melted into the sand a few minutes in, his eyes clichély blood-red in anger as his veins pulsated throughout various muscles. Many said he was the champion of Megarun, but I was here to prove them wrong. We were half an hour into the fight, and I was very conscious of the huge crowds of soldiers watching me and the cameras streaming my moves to the rest of the six Kingdom’s armies. Some said the Games should be opened up completely to the public, but I knew that was a bad idea – civs wouldn’t like the gore of the tournaments, plus they already had access to enough of the Games and the Capture-the-Flag finale.

He stepped forward in an attempt to strike my stomach, missing as I side-stepped him. I took this chance to sweep his feet off the ground with my spear, and his head struck the ground with a resounding thud causing the fighter to groan. He started to twitch, his whole body consumed in anger and I laughed – looking forward to the reaction memes coming from today’s fight. I placed my sword quickly against his throat and my knee on his chest, pinning him down. Using my free hand, I threw his golden bejewelled sword away from him and heard a satisfying ‘thunk’ as it hit the side of the pit. I looked up at the crowd, taking a moment to locate the king and his family in the monarch’s box.

King Althred stared back at me, an eyebrow raised in either surprise or in irritation – probably the latter as I had just taken out one of his handpicked Royal Guards. He looked around at the soldiers surrounding who roared their approval of my victory, before looking back at me. The screens showed swarms of people cheering, clapping and calling for Eric’s punishment. It made me slightly sick, the televised gore, after all I had seen out in the field. But hey, I’m not going bite the hand that feeds me. I gazed back at the king as he lifted his hand out from under the folds of his heavily jewelled robes, and the crowd went quiet with anticipation. This is the moment they had been waiting for. Althred swung his arm out to the left, and all eyes were back on me.

I took a second to decide. Arm? Or leg? I made up my mind quickly and swung my sword once more, ripping nicely through flesh and bone. The crowd roared again with the sight of a red and creamy white wound. Speakers called out to the masses that there was a new champion and to give me my title. Two medics rushed onto the grounds, pulling the wailing warrior onto a stretcher and taking him to the nearby apothecary but leaving his bloodied arm behind. I watched in slight guilt, upset that I had effectively taken his life. Yes, I had only taken his arm, but it meant that he could no longer fight so no longer had a job – it would be likely he would live a beggar for the rest of his life. Fun.

I turned back to the royal family. The king was neither smiling nor frowning at me, showing no emotion as was tradition – but I could see the glimmer of amusement and perhaps even interest in his night sky eyes, which were surrounded by wrinkles. His wife had only just turned back, clearly disgusted (and maybe even just having finished puking) by the violence of the tournament. She smiled weakly and even then, it was obvious how she was the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, perhaps even out of the league of the heroic king next to her, and it was funny to think how she was previously just a fisherman’s daughter. Their children were a mixture of the two. Their eldest son had raven back hair and was clearly his father’s son through his warrior-like and kingly statute as he watched me, their eldest daughter was as beautiful as her mother as she whispered to her younger brothers – small brunette twins who seemed mischievous enough that they couldn’t sit still for one second, let alone an entire tournament.

I knelt in the centre of the ring facing all of them, noticing the sand that had dusted my armour in the fight slowly being blown off by the gentle breeze. I placed my sword tip-down in the sand with my hands rested on top and my head bowed as a symbol of respect and gratitude to my ruler. Well, the ruler of the country I was currently in. The crowd were still cheering, and the king nodded his head in approval whilst simultaneously dismissing me. I stood up, as did the crowd, and together we sang the national anthem as the royals left the arena. It marked the end of a long day of fighting and I was exhausted, ready to collapse into my creaky old bunk bed and sleep the night away.

 

Back in the barracks, I stood to attention while the general walked past the rows of soldiers. The general, like the king, was a true warrior but one who had risen up the ranks through victory after victory in the Siege of Algarth and the Tribal Wars. That was many decades ago, but age seemed to have only brushed Kaurish – his fifty years of service could only be seen through the scars on his body, the various medals on his chest and a few silver strands of hair by his temples.  
“Well done, soldier.” He muttered in a quiet yet firm voice, nodding in respect. I smiled slightly and saluted, only returning to my previous activities after General Kaurish was out of sight. Everyone respected him, and he was kind of my hero, so his words meant the world to me. Some guys were even scared of him, but I never understood why.

The barracks kept filling up as men and women came back from the various tournaments and games of the day. As the numbers of sweaty soldiers increased, so did the noise. And the smell.  
Everyone was chatting about their days, some strategizing about the big game coming up at the end of the week, and a few of my friends said hi as they walked past.  
General Kaurish left the main courtyard to go into the control room, and as the door flapped closed I saw the footage of the past few years of Capture-the-Flag. He must have spent the entire day strategizing as he looked just as tired as I felt.  
“Alright, ya noisy lot, shut ya traps and listen up.” My commander yelled, silencing the soldiers save a few whispers here and there. He appeared to get ready to launch into one of his pep-speeches (as inspiring as a pep-talk but far, far longer) before his face scrunched up in disgust.  
“Jeez, I thought the 106th were taking part in the Essonian Games, not rolling around with the pigs.” Commander Xavion (or CX as I liked to call him) grumbled, resulting in much laughter and several frantic sprays of deodorant, making me cough from the chemical fumes that filled the air.  
“But on a better note, today has gone extremely well. The 106th is still high on the leader board but we can only retain our dignity if we win!” Commander Xavion exclaimed, a cue to many cheers and whooping, as I finished sharpening my sword and spear using my favourite whetstone.  
“And now we need to recognise one of our greatest fighters, who has not only saved my ass several times but all of yours too. So far, this kid has not lost a single game or tournament and to add to that, managed to defeat the one and only Dragon a few hours ago. Here’s to Red!” He yelled, the rest of the regiment joining his cheers and clapping. I felt my cheeks redden with all the new attention, but I just laughed and shook my head in dismissal.  
“Just remember that when I’m at the inn later, okay?” I answered, earning laughs from my friends.  
“Alright, well, I will leave you be.” General Kaurish proclaimed from the corner of the room, making everyone stand to attention once again as we all realised he had re-entered room, “Dismissed.” He finished, striding off; his quietly powerful presence leaving with him.  
  
The room resumed its previous chaos and noise, filling the air with comfortable overlapping conversations, with the occasional screen lighting up as someone checked their spare, gold lined tablets for the newest Games updates and news. They were also the snobbiest of the 106th (the ones I called the Asses with Class), who were always bitching and whining about one thing or another as they lived in what was frankly as high luxury as the King, while the rest of us lived in comparative squalor.  
I started the tiring routine of removing the little armour I had, undoing each strap in the correct order and the correct way as I had been taught. Some said I was too much of a perfectionist, but my armour had never failed or broken on me – unlike many of the 106th, many of them now muttering and groaning at their shoddy and tatty equipment while mine shined and glistened after I polished it. Some people (aka the Asses with Class) never seemed to learn, even after the hundreds and maybe even thousands of scoldings from CX. Then again, they could afford to buy set after set of new armour.

A purple robe darted through the swathes of chattering soldiers, and I wouldn’t have paid attention until it skidded to a fault in front of me.  
“Are you Victoria ‘Red’ Robinson of the 106th?” The guy dripping with sweat asked as his noise scrunched up at the barracks’ smell; I rolled my eyes in disgust at the use of my full name but nodded as I finished cleaning. He frantically checked scrolled through his old, malfunctioning tablet, cursing as it flashed his messages before settling down. He looked back up at me.  
“The king has summoned you to the dining hall.”  
My heart dropped to my stomach as I processed what he had said.  
“What the hell are you on about? Is this some kind of joke?” I asked, looking round to see if there were any smirking guys laughing at me.  
No one.  
“It’s not.” He said, glaring at me, “And if I was you, I’d get my ass in front of his majesty as soon as – you know they don’t like to be kept waiting.”  
And with that he darted off, presumably to his next job, leaving me to curse like a sailor as I shoved my armour into my wooden chest.


	2. Chapter 2

I walked towards the dining hall in the heart of the castle, losing my way several times through the maze of hallways and rooms, but hopefully kept walking towards the waiting king. My breathing was short and panicked. No simple foot soldier had ever been summoned to the audience of the king and survived to tell the tale.

King Althred wasn’t like the rest of the monarchs who were part of the Unified Countries of Parthea, better known as the UCP. He had seen more blood and gore than most, yet he was still a (mostly) kind and just ruler. He had fought with honour and dignity in the Tribal Wars, alongside General Kaurish, and initiates in the Megarunian armed forces always heard stories of their battles together. I remembered my first time hearing one of these tales, as a young girl eavesdropping on the nearest patrol of soldiers. The officer had claimed that Althred had been left in charge of a small battalion when he was merely fifteen – far too young to be a soldier, let alone a lieutenant. His father, the mad Megsarthon, had forced all of his sons into service. All five of King Althred’s oldest brothers had been killed because of this, leaving him an only child, and the battle of Henron was assumed to be his death. He and his battalion was a force of less than thirty, patrolling on the northern border of Megarun to investigate a report that some very bold Medles had camped there. The Medles had always been a pest to the alliance, pillaging as they raided villages on outer borders. Before the battle of Henron, the Medles had been getting bolder and braver – pillaging in daylight and going deeper into UCP territory. On the day of the fighting, Althred’s battalion came across the camp of around five hundred Medlian troops.  
It’s said one of Althred’s scouts was caught, and tortured until he gave up the location of the King’s camp. All five hundred Medlian warriors apparently pounced on them at day break, keen to end Megsarthon’s line then and there. But no such luck for them.  
The then-Prince Althred rallied his trembling troops and together they fought their way out. According to the officer, only the scout from Althred’s battalion died. And the survivors went on to form the original twenty-eight Royal Guards.  
Or so the legend goes.

I tapped my foot as I felt my anxiety rise as I waited outside the huge, aged oak doors as one of the Royal Guards announced my presence. He was taking his damn sweet time and, as the seconds wasted away into minutes, I could feel my heartbeat thump painfully against my ribs. The doors were intricately carved with the myths of Megarun, and it took all my energy not to reach forward to trace the contours. Dragons, griffins, satyrs, basilisks, centaurs, chimeras and manticores littered the door’s panels and I wondered how many were once real, live creatures killed in real missions – rather than just being a part of the many stories and myths I had heard as a child. I started pacing instead, watching as serving boys and serving girls weaved past me and through the corridor, checking their tablets or holding baskets of laundry or carrying plates of expensive looking food. They mostly ignored me, some staring in confusion while others sighed in annoyance when I didn’t move out of their way. Their footsteps broke the loud silence, letting my speeding brain calm for a second as I listened to the rhythmic thudding of their leather shoes on the stone floors. The humming and business-like atmosphere of the castle and its workers reminded me of how foreign a world this place was to me. The castle, although busy and important with its individual servants each with their own purpose all contributing to bettering the lives of our royal leaders, was miles away from my world. My ideal world was some place where adrenaline constantly thrummed in my veins, where I fought for king and country but also with some degree of personal satisfaction. This place filled me with unease, the overbearing control of the sovereign and lack of freedom permeating the air.  
Movement behind the heavy, oak doors drew my attention back to the hall and back to the king who sat behind those huge doors waiting for me. His intentions, or potential intentions, terrified me. Who knew what he would ask of me? It could be a suicide mission and I would have no choice to agree – after all, who am I to refuse a king?  
“You may enter.” A deep voice proclaimed, and the two doors swung into the room as if they were mechanic – revealing the King and the rest of his family. They were sitting at a surprisingly simplistic wooden table and their servants were busy clearing the table of what appeared to be some sort of feast – a roast pig, lavish greens, the whole deal. It seemed a waste to just throw away all the excess food that’d likely be left over, and I could think of dozens of people who would kill to be able to have even just half of the luxurious scraps.  
I walked forward but remained far away from the end of the table, standing to attention, as I waited for Kind Althred to say something. The entire family – even the twins - were staring at me with watchful eyes, making me unbelievably uncomfortable with their cold, royal gaze.  
“So you are our country’s champion, then?” The king asked slowly, studying me as he took a sip from a gold leaf goblet. His voice was calm but surprisingly young, contrasting his greying hair and wrinkled eyes.  
“Yes, sire.” I replied, fiddling with my thumbs behind me but straightening my back at the mention of such a title. No sooner had I lifted my shoulder blades than the glint of metal and the whistle of a knife came rushing at my skull. I whipped my right hand up one fluid motion, flinching as metal bit into my palm. I jerked backwards to ensure the knife wouldn’t become buried in my face and I looked up to see the king staring into my eyes, his hand hovering above the table which was missing a knife.  
“Would you like this back, sire?” I asked after a second of recovery, using my sleeve to wipe off the blood from the knife.  
“Rufus?” The king called, and a middle-aged man in a tux – tails and all – came forward and took the knife from me. “Not a bad catch.” The king commented, and I bowed my head slightly in gratitude. I looked back up at the rest of the family. Queen Rosamund had a confused expression on her face, her olive eyes searching me for an answer to an unknown question. The prince, Sebastian I think, was looking at me in surprise and he looked impressed, which made me happier than I cared to admit – although I was slightly worried about the knife he was twirling in his hand. Princess Adaline, on the other hand, did not look impressed in the least, merely rolling her eyes before she glared at her father. The twins’ mouths had dropped to the floor, with Emmett looking at me with the same expression as his older brother while Nicholas watched me with glee.  
Once again, I waited for one of the family to speak, feeling awkward at their intense gaze, but the silence lasted only a few moments.  
“Oh, Althie.” Queen Rosamund said exasperatedly, seeming to be slightly scolding her husband, “Give the poor thing a chance.”  
“Of course, my love.” The king said quietly before directing his piercing gaze to me, “Is there anything we can do for you?” He asked me, “You have permission to speak freely.”  
“Thank you, my lord.” I answered before moving my gaze to Sebastian who was still twirling his knife, “I was wondering if I needed to put my gloves on, you know… in case I was catching any more knives?”  
The king chuckled, a deep hearty noise from the pit of his stomach, and his son gave his knife to the waiting Rufus sheepishly.  
“Take a seat.” The king said in a friendly tone, one that appeared to be a request but I knew after years of military service was an order. I slowly edged myself into the seat opposite the king at the end of the table, sitting a few seats down from the family.  
“What is your name?”  
“Most call me Red, sire.”  
“A fitting name.” The queen exclaimed, surprisingly kindly as she referenced my roughly chopped hair. I wanted to snort and tell her the real story behind my name, about red blood rather than red hair, but I kept my mouth shut. I bowed my head in thanks towards her, shifting in my seat slightly at the rising tension in the room – so much so that it felt as if it could be cut with the knife that had been thrown at me.  
“How old are you?” The king asked.  
“Nineteen, my lord.”  
“The same age as my daughter, Adaline.”  
“Indeed.” I replied, fighting the urge to fidget my nervous energy away.  
“You are surprisingly polite for a soldier.” King Althred commented.  
“Well, one of my legion has to be.” I muttered, causing the king and prince to smile while the queen looked on in disapproval.  
“Althie,” Rosamund scolded once again, “You promised me this would be short!”  
“Sorry, love.” Althred said softly before turning to me, “What is happening with the 106th? How are you doing in the tournament?”  
“We are doing well, sire, but we are preparing for the capture-the-flag game as we have to get at least two hundred points to keep our lead, my lord.”  
“I have to say, the 106th are fast becoming my favourite to win. But I’m sorry to tell you that I’m taking you out of the Essonian Games, Red.”  
I looked at him in surprise and slight anger, perplexed at not being able to help my legion.  
“May I ask why?” I asked, staying as polite as I could, whilst screaming internally.  
“I would like you to protect my daughter – act as her handmaiden whilst keeping her safe. Her last bodyguards have not been good enough.” He commanded sharply, and I realised I hadn’t been polite as I had hoped.  
“Of course, my lord.” I answered as I bowed my head, “May I ask one thing, sire?”  
“Yes?” King Althred asked, clearly irritated as he tapped his fingers on the table and was clearly making the rest of his family even more tense.  
“I had a role in the capture-the-flag game next month, and my legion desperately wants to win the Games this year – may I tell them I am being transferred?” I asked carefully.  
The king cracked a smile, and the tension in the room melted away.  
“Of course, Red. I remember my legion days.” He replied, smiling as he looked back on his memories.  
“You may take your leave.” Queen Rosamund remarked.  
I walked out of the hall quietly, hearing some laughter as the king told a story to his children.

CX wasn’t too pleased by my sudden transferral but he – like everyone else in the 106th – had heard of my royal summons so he begrudgingly let me go.  
“If this came from the king, I’m not gonna argue with it but I’ll be sorry to see you go, kid.” He admitted, patting my back as he walked with me through the courtyard to my bunkroom.  
The barracks was a rectangular building, with a stone courtyard in the middle and doors on either side leading to bunkrooms and a canteen at the very end. The courtyard was huge, big enough to hold the entire legion, plus an array of officers and leaders, with a flat screen at the end which endlessly scrolled with news and updates.  
“Thanks, CX.” I muttered sincerely. He smiled sadly at the use of my nickname, which I had created when I had first met the man and I had no idea how to say his name properly, “I’ll rweally miss oo.” I joked, getting a laugh out of him.  
“I’ll leave you to it.” He muttered as our laughter fell away to silence, striding away through a bustle of soldiers outside my room.

I closed the curtain separating my ‘room’ from the rest of the dorm and quickly shoved all my clothes into my backpack. I took one last look around my bunk and into the rest of the room as I grabbed a couple of photos and the last of my weapons. I smiled wistfully at the pictures of my friends, chuckling at the memories that re-surfaced.  
I distinctly remembered a certain card game; Elija, me, Mac and Rocket against Towerblock, Woody, Ketchup and Runner. We were on leave and playing our monthly card game that lasted an entire weekend. The picture had been taken at the very end of the tournament, the background was littered with piles of millions of energy drinks shown in everyone’s red and bloodshot eyes from the lack of sleep. It had been the best competition of our time, my team winning by the breadth of a hair.  
Another picture was of our entire battalion, our faces pulled into silly faces and our bodies posed in various weird positions. It was our first attempt at ‘picture day’, a concept that had been started throughout the army for admin reasons or some such nonsense. None of us were taking it seriously, having already had an exhausting day of training and exercises, and I remember how tomato red CX’s face had gotten as the hours went on. By the time a suitable photo had been taken on the fancy camera that probably cost more than our entire battalion – barracks and all - there were enough extras for the entire legion of a hundred and twenty or so to have one each. It was one of my favourite memories of my entire time in the army, and I felt a low tug in my gut knowing I’d really miss it here. Well, the people and the activities maybe but certainly not the food.  
I snapped myself out of my thoughts and pulled the last of my few possessions into my bag. My room was surprisingly quiet, and I was vaguely suspicious of what would happen once I left it. I had been the victim of too many pranks before to think that this lack of noise was okay.  
I opened my door cautiously, preparing for whatever was bound to be on the other side. That was another thing I would unexpectedly miss – all the custard in boots, the blue staining water in showers and bright pink hair dye in shampoo.  
To my surprise, the entire legion was lined up in the courtyard (even the ones who hated my guts) and they saluted the minute I walked into open air. A few were fighting the urge not to smirk at me, and I could see their smiles half hidden behind their solemn expressions. To say they hated me was an understatement, but their faces were lost in the sea of half crying men who were struggling to not break down. It was almost hilarious to see these warriors cry until I remembered that I would be leaving them, and that I would likely never see them again, and that’s when tears of my own started to fall.  
“Why are you giving me a hero’s salute?” I asked, after clearing my throat and wiping my face.  
“You’re the first person from the 106th to have been summoned by the king,” Max, a pompous ass, proclaimed in a high and mighty voice. I was already close to slapping him.  
“And survived.” Muttered Leo, one of my best friends. There was an awkward silence, with no one knowing what to say or do.  
“Oh calm down guys, it’s not like I’m going to the front.” I exclaimed, “And I swear if you don’t win capture-the-flag, I might have to hunt you lot down and beat your asses.” I added, making the awkward soldiers in front of me chuckle, “Oh, and don’t forget – you all still owe me a beer!”  
With that I walked off, down the line of soldiers – most of who, to my amusement, were all still attempting not to cry – and I waved one last time as I left the barracks and walked towards the castle.  
Most people would probably think I was being dramatic, but that legion was my family and the only ones I could trust – and now I had to join the political, back-stabbing court, a place full of smiling betrayers and helpful traitors.

I walked back towards the castle gates, and the butler from the hall, Rufus, if I had remembered correctly, met me at there. He looked down his oily nose at me and his face seeming to drip with disgust. I rolled my eyes, only thinking that he should look at his greasy hair and mud-covered boots before judging my unkempt dragged-through-a-bush-backwards appearance. He escorted me through the labyrinth of hallways – past the kitchens, bedrooms, armouries, a throne room or two and past many servants hustling and bustling. The castle was decked out with all the extravagant new tech that the Unified Countries of Parthea could offer, and it felt like I had leapt forward a few centuries from my normal life at the barracks. Sorry, my previous life at the barracks.  
“Preparations for the big feast?” I asked, and Rufus nodded his head curtly, rudely ignoring my attempt at small talk. I knew that soldiers were often looked down on, but I had never met such an arrogant and conceited ass in my entire life. Not even the Asses with Class.  
“The feast on Friday is not only a celebration of the Games and to prepare for the Capture-the-Flag, but also a chance for the royal family to network and gain influence in other kingdoms – as well as finding potential suitors for the children.” He recited, as if he was reading out of a book, “But as a handmaiden, you should already know this.”  
I rolled my eyes as we turned another corner, my dislike for the pretentious butler steadily increasing as he patronisingly recited yet more information that he knew I would not know, lording it over me that I hadn’t had a servant’s education. Or any ‘proper’ education for that matter.  
He came to a sudden halt, causing me to almost crash into his back. Rufus opened an ancient, battered, splintering door unveiling a small room – furnished with a simple, creaky bed, a tiny bedside table, a leaking bean-bag and a closet.  
“Come on, get moving, the princess is waiting,” Rufus announced disdainfully. I chucked my rucksack by the bed as I realised it was my room, running after the penguin-like man to catch up as he arrogantly sauntered off.


	3. Chapter 3

There were more twists and turns and stairs and steps and hallways and halls as we travelled what seemed like miles. We stopped once more, this time in front of an ornately carved wooden door similar to the hall’s entrance. Rufus looked me up and down with expression of judgement before sighing, making me raise my eyebrows in annoyance.  
He opened the door, revealing Princess Adaline brushing her waist length hair. Her face seemed to be carved out of stone, with a jaw line and cheek bones so defined that they could cut diamonds just like her mother. Smooth, tanned skin seemed to make her glow slightly in the sunlight and her silver locks seemed to frame her face perfectly, complementing her gorgeous sea-blue eyes. She had almost perfect posture, which – along with her close-fitting dress – flattered her curvy figure. I couldn’t help myself, allowing my eyes to study the length of her. I was used to subtly giving potential enemies a once over, searching for weaknesses and strengths and I unconsciously did this now. The distinct royal tattoo was curled near the nape of her neck, and I suspected her back held the insignia of the Pendragons – which I knew would later be replaced with her husband’s crest. I let my eyes wander south, and I observed a small peanut shaped birthmark on her ankle. Rufus slammed the door behind me and my eyes panned up to see the irritated Adaline, one eyebrow raised in derision. Rufus shoved me inside and slammed the door, leaving me with a very irritated princess.  
I studied the room while a TV played a sitcom in the background, and I saw that it was furnished with a king-sized bed (with more drapes and cushions and blankets anyone could possibly need), a small bed-side table, a pile of bean-bags of all shapes and sizes, an expensive looking vanity dresser and a single wardrobe that easily dwarfed any that I’d ever laid eyes on. The room seemed to be a little overkill - to have so many fine, expensive fabrics when many were starving just beyond on the castle walls. It made me angry, that so much expense was spent inside of the castle walls when people were dying just outside. I felt my face flush in frustration but tried to suppress it, reminding myself that it was probably the Queen who had decorated the castle with the King’s money, not Adaline.  
“So, you’re my new body-guard then.” She asked sharply, breaking the silence and staring at me through her mirror as she reached to a remote to turn off her 42-inch flat screen. A pang of jealousy hit my stomach, but I ignored it to focus on my job.  
“Yes, mi’lady.” I replied, already feeling the tension radiating from her.  
“Okay – you’re actually polite, it wasn’t just for show.” She observed, standing up to look me directly in the eye. Well, as directly as she could as she stood a few inches shorter than me, “That’s new.” She added.  
I raised my eyebrow in question, both at her statement and once I realised she was in only her chemise. “You didn’t think you’re the only body-guard I’ve ever had?”  
“Of course not, your majesty, it’s just that you are royalty and so I’ve assumed that everyone is polite to you.” I answered, reaching a hand out towards her as an offer to brush her hair. She sat back down and handed me her hair brush, scoffing at my statement.  
“Unless you count flirting and grabbing my ass as polite.” She told me.  
“Dicks.” I muttered without hesitation, but not under my breath as I had hoped, judging by the look on her face, “I mean, idiots.” I added, trying to correct my mistake and cursing to myself as I realised that I would have to watch my mouth from now on.  
She appeared to ignore me as I started brushing out the many knots in her beautiful silver hair as gently as I could.  
“Just because you’re polite doesn’t mean that you won’t end up like the others.” She warned, and I raised my eyebrows, “All my bodyguards who I thought ‘weren’t good enough’? They left before the end of the week – apparently, I’m just too much to handle… Plus, I can look after myself.”  
I smiled as I pictured the various bodyguards from the Royal Guard (all huge, beefy and muscular) running in fear from this petite princess.  
“I have no doubt about that, your majesty.” I replied as I started braiding her hair, “But sometimes even the best of warriors need someone to have their back.”  
She nodded at my response, and there was a comfortable silence as I finished her braid – eager to make it perfect.  
“I thought you were a soldier?” She asked when I finished, as she surveyed her hair.  
“I am.”  
“So how is it that you can do my hair better than any handmaiden I’ve ever had?” She asked and I smirked.  
“I’ve looked after various families through the years, and it turns out that girls like their hair away from their face, especially when they’re working.” I answered, smiling fondly as I remembered the lessons I had been given.  
She nodded once more, and taught me how to get her into a lilac dress – a task much harder and far more complicated than any military manoeuvre I’ve ever had to learn. She was only as polite as she needed to be, her obvious royal upbringing showing through. Princess Adaline gave me a typical handmaiden’s outfit, a full length blue dress with a white apron, and soon I looked like any other low-born woman in the castle.  
“Do you know where we are going?” She asked, not too unkindly, and I shook my head, “It’s a meeting between the Elders of Megarun and the Pendragon family – so, stay behind me, don’t speak a word unless spoken to and do exactly what they say.” She told me and I nodded, grateful she wasn’t as stuck up as Rufus.

Our route back to the vast dining hall was much shorter than before, and I suspected Rufus had taken a much longer route in an attempt to annoy the princess even more than she had already been. By the time we had arrived, the dining table had been removed and had been replaced with a much wider and longer table. The room was lit with the rays of the setting sun, creating multi-coloured patterns from the stained-glass windows that seemed to dance on the floor. I guessed the Pendragons sat on the empty chairs – sorry, the empty thrones - at the front, while the hordes of men (most of whom were elderly and seemed to have a stick up their arse) were milling around. They appeared to either be cornering and flirting with poor serving girls, talking politics with each other or playing on their tablets in an attempt to look important.  
Princess Adaline led the way to the front of the room, weaving through the Elders who quickly bowed to her before returning to their conversations – although I noticed a few of them staring at Adaline’s figure, making me sick to my stomach, as more than half of them were old enough to be her grandfather. Adaline sat on the very left-hand side of the thrones, on a chair made of velvet and expensive oak with the same intricate carvings as her door. I took my place a few steps behind her, on the border of the hall and an alcove which housed the king’s ceremonial throne.  
I took a moment to examine the room, noticing two secret exits on the either side of the alcove that were hidden from view in the hall, presumably for servants. The room was very bare, with no hiding places for assassins or potential kidnappers – although I had a distinct feeling the assembly of nobles in front of me were a far bigger threat than any angry low-born. The hall had stone panelled flooring with elaborately decorated pillars lining a small pathway on either side of the hall leading to serving doors. The many stained-glass windows depicted great battles, fights, lovers and other scenes from the Pendragon’s family’s rich history.  
I watched carefully as the Queen walked in, the twins running around her skirts. Silence fell once more as the Queen moved towards her chair – the one next to Adaline’s, a copy of hers but only slightly bigger.  
“Emmett! Nicholas!” Queen Rosamund scolded, and the energetic boys stopped in their tracks. I suspected that the queen spent most of her time keeping the family together, having to scold and persuade and possibly bribe them into place. The twins solemnly followed their mother towards her seat, before making their way to the opposite end of table and jumping into two small – but just as luxurious – seats. I watched as Adaline smiled at both her mother and her littler brothers, smiling myself as the boys frantically waved at me once they had seen me.  
All at once, the Elders fell to their knees – along with other servants I had not seen enter the room – and I wondered what had happened. Adaline looked backed at me with a harsh expression and I quickly followed the example of the old men.  
Soon enough, King Althred and Prince Sebastian strode in, and bringing with them a strong presence that filled the room and reminded its inhabitants of the duo’s power, wisdom and supposed divinity.  
They proceeded through the middle of the room, the Elders scuttling to the edges of the hall with their noses almost touching the floor as they did, like ants running from a stream of water. Sebastian took his seat first, placing himself next to the twins who had surprised me in being completely silent and completely still. I watched how the family held themselves as I moved further behind them with the rest of their servants, watching as their posture of pride and belonging spread throughout the room.  
The King was stood behind the last remaining chair, the one in the middle of the line, and he studied the room and its inhabitants as it began the chant.  
“Megarun is our country, Tusand is our home. King Althred our ruler, Prince Sebastian our heir. From once chaos, to now only peace – we praise our gods and say, ‘Long live the king!’”  
The Elders’ voices mingled with the servants’ and royal family’s – other than the King – as we spoke our national anthem. Once the room fell into silence, King Althred took his seat. I could only see the backs of my current monarchs but in my gut I felt nervous and anxious. I looked at each of them in turn, admiring their confidence, until I looked to Adaline. She had the posture and the appearance of the rest of her family, but something felt off. Her fingers tapped a silent beat on the edge of her chair as if she was attempting to get rid of some nervous energy.

I stood in a line of handmaidens and serving boys, who I assumed worked closely with one member of the family. I spied two tall men who I had seen previously through a window sparring with Sebastian in the castle’s courtyard; a slightly rotund woman with rosy cheeks, who looked kind and I assumed she must have tended to the twins from time to time and there were a few more whose roles I couldn't guess. Each held themselves in the same manner, backs straight as a rod but heads lowered making their positions as household staff clear to all who saw them. They smiled at me slightly but I could see a simpering pity in their eyes, and I was worried at what was in store for me.  
The meeting had lasted for hours and hours, and even my trained soldier’s body ached with the pain of staying in one position too long. I longed to roll my shoulders and stretch my muscles, but one of the Elders was still muttering on about some trade route to Megarun and some slight change that needed to occur in order for it to be more efficient. My thoughts drifted elsewhere, day-dreaming about potential threats and coming up with various solutions just in case.  
“Megarun is our country, Tusand is our home. King Althred our ruler, Prince Sebastian our heir. From once chaos, to now only peace – we praise our gods and say ‘Long live the king!’”

Our anthem snapped me out of my thoughts, and I watched as the rulers left in reverse order as they had entered. It was a slow process and, each time a royal retired, their servant would smile at their friends and gave me another pity-filled look. It unnerved me slightly and took me back to Adaline’s warning that I wouldn’t last the week, but I was determined to prove her wrong.  
I followed Adaline once again as she left the room, glaring at the perverted Elders as we passed – surprising many of them to my delight. She started to lead me back to her room and I was too busy memorising the route to notice she had stopped. I crashed into her and she glared at me.  
“So, what did you think of the meeting?” She inquired, picking at her nails as she pretended to be bored.  
“It was boring.” I replied, “I understand that it was vital to the kingdom, but I’m not interested in politics. My job is to protect you, so that’s what I’m focused on.”  
She studied me and looked vaguely unimpressed as I answered and replied with, “And what if those ‘boring’ meetings contain a clue about an attack on me?”  
“Well, as far as I could work out, a slight change in a trade route wouldn’t affect you – unless it went into foreign territory, then those rebel idiots might want to kidnap you. And I don’t think that an increase in bread prices by one flig is going to be a threat either, unless you are going to be massacred by angry men who live off only bread.”  
She smiled slightly at the bread comment and nodded her head, “So you were paying attention?” She muttered.  
“Never said I wasn’t.” I answered quickly and I gestured in what I hoped was the direction towards her room, “Don’t you need to change or prepare or something? I mean I don’t know what princesses do.”  
Her expression hardened at my dismissive tone and she curtly informed me, “I need to change into the turquoise dress for tea with my mother and then when we will return, I will need to change into my bedclothes, I hope that’s fine with you?” She said angrily before she walked off quickly, making me jog to keep up with her.  
“I apologise, mi’lady.” I said quietly, looking respectfully down at the stone floor to step back over the line I had just crossed.  
She strode away, and I walked dutifully beside her. The silence was deafening and it lasted until she was seated in her room. “The warning still stands, Red.” She muttered in a hostile tone, “I don’t need some soldier to protect me and you will be gone by the end of the week. That’s a promise.”  
I nodded at her words and resumed brushing and re-doing her hair, trying to work out how badly this could end for me. Granted Adaline wanted me out, but the King would have my head for failing the job. I could talk to the King about Adaline’s wishes, but then he would get angry at Adaline and would probably kill me anyway. I could leave, but then the King would hunt me down and kill me. Seemed that most of my futures ended up with an early death. Great.

After sitting with the princess while she talked with her mother (drinking ridiculous amounts of tea, by the way) and after getting her ready and into bed, I slowly walked back to my new room and collapsed onto the bed. Well, my bed now. It creaked satisfyingly, similar to my old bed. I took the moment to study the bare room, the dirty cracked walls in desperate need of painting and the old door needing some oil and some polish. The furniture was creaky took, but better than any I had ever had before and it looked way comfier too. A sharp knock came from my door, and – whilst worrying about the knock breaking the door – I pulled myself from my bed and opened the door slowly, just wide enough so I could see who was there.  
There was a small group outside, led by the kind grey haired plump woman from the meeting who was holding a basket. A taller, very thin man with monolids next to her smiled at me. Another tanned man had an arm around a younger woman, who I guessed were together, and I didn’t remember seeing her before but I recognised him as one of the men who sparred with the prince. A third woman glared at me, and I recognised her faded blue hair as belonging to the handmaiden to the Queen.  
“Hello, my dear.” The eldest woman welcomed, smiling at me cheerfully and I opened the door wide enough to be polite.  
“Hi?” I said softly, looking at them in confusion.  
“I’m Eleanor, although everyone calls me Ell, and we thought as you are new to the royal household we would welcome you,” She replied, her smile shining through her voice and eyes. I returned a small smile, grateful they were being so kind, “I’m everyone’s Nanma round here, I raise the sweet royal kids and look after everyone so if you need help sweetie I’m always here.”  
“I’m Red,” I told her as I leant against my door, “and thank you.”  
She smiled even wider, “No problem, pet. Let me introduce everyone: that’s Rico our head chef, stable boy Stevie and Lena who helps me out a lot and finally the Queen’s handmaiden Meggie.” As she spoke, she pointed in turn to the lanky man, who winked at me with what I realised were purple cat eyes (he must have been from Adrad), then the smiling couple and then the angry blue-haired woman who simply looked at me with contempt.  
To my relief, none of them seemed to be threats, although the tension that was rising seemed to be fatal.  
“It’s nice to meet you all.” I answered, smiling sweetly at them all, trying to be polite although my eyes were becoming heavier by the minute.  
“Well, we all know that first days are hard – especially in this castle, so here is a little welcome package for you with bits from all of us,” Ell continued as she handed me the wicker basket with a checked blanket on top, “And from the court’s physician Max and Tiff, Rey and Aleena who are serving girls like Lena. They all wanted to come but are unfortunately ridiculously busy with preparations.”  
I smiled wider, their kindness making me feel welcomed.  
“You guys are so kind, thank you, this means the world to me,” I said honestly, shifting the basket so it rested on my hip.  
“If you need any more food, come by the kitchen,” Rico offered, pushing his hand through his raven-black hair, which was longer than mine.  
“And if you need any help from us, whether it be cleaning or tidying-” Stevie started, his voice a hell of lot deeper than I expected,  
“-we can help!” Lena finished sweetly.  
There was a short pause, and everyone looked at Meggie who simply rolled her eyes.  
“Same as them,” She muttered, “I’m afraid I’m awfully busy, so I need to go now,” she added before striding off towards the family’s quarters.  
Ell sighed before looking back at me, “I’m sorry about her, pet, she dislikes new people and especially when they are close to the Pendragons,” she explained and I nodded.  
“I understand,” I reply before placing the welcome basket on the floor next to my door, “I’m sorry, but I am so exhausted.”  
“Of course, of course,” Ell mumbled, starting to push the other three away who just smiled at her actions, “Sleep well, love.” She added as the rest of the group waved as they were shuffled away.  
I closed the door and leaned against it smiling, taking another look at the basket. After a few seconds of debating, I lifted the heavy item up and swung it onto the bed with me. I pulled the blanket off, placing it under me and the basket, and I looked through all the goodies. Rico had made dozens of bite sized snacks for me in cute little packages ranging from chocolates to crepes; I guessed it was Lena had given me some aesthetic house-warming (or should I say, room-warming) plants; Stevie had gifted me a comfy pastel-blue blanket probably on the advice of Lena and Meggie had given me some books on how to be a good handmaiden. Ell had given me a small notebook, a beautiful pen and had written me a letter, explaining all the things that new serving girls usually asked her and gave me some tips on (and I quote) ‘how to survive’. There were a few other gifts, ones I assumed were from the servants who couldn’t come. One was a plain wooden box which I guessed was from Max as it was filled with bandages and little bottles labelled neatly with what the contents were for, while the others had given me some nice if a little used and patched up clothes. I felt warmer than before, like I was cared for, and the gifts were lovely – even though Meggie’s gift was a little condescending, I knew it would help.  
I put Lena’s gifts with Max’s box on the top of a set of drawers, that I hadn’t seen before as it had been hidden behind the door. There was a tiny three-pronged cactus, a bonsai tree that reminded me of the deserts in Ustrana and an aloe vera that I knew I could eventually use for burns or rashes. I loved all of them, staring at them a little with a smile, before I put the clothes carefully in the drawers.  
Once I had finished arranging everything, I grabbed Ell’s notebook and pen and starting writing notes on each of the people I had just met.

  
_Ell (Eleanor):_  
_Late 60s/early 70s, short but feminine grey hair, 5’1”, green eyes, smile wrinkles, nose freckles, overall good health, no injuries seen, country of origin – accent suggests Megarun._  
_Seemed sweet and kind, a helpful grandma/agony_ aunt, _helps everyone so likely knows the ins and outs of the castle and its inhabitants so knows secrets._  
_Job – nanny to the twins._  
_No threat._  
_Rico:_  
_30ish, dark green hair, 5’9”, purple cat-eyes, smoker’s teeth, few cuts/scars on hands/fingers but otherwise good health, country of origin – monolids suggest Adrad._  
_Smirks and winks a lot, maybe a flirt?, friendly, possibly Ell’s grandson._  
_Job – head chef (possibly heard his name before? Probably famous if working for Pendragons)._  
_No threat._  
_Lena:_  
_Late 20s, younger than Rico, blonde hair past shoulders, 5’6”, blue eyes, sweet smile, overall good health, country of origin – accent suggests Megarun._  
_Very sweet, very in love with Stevie, giggles a lot, seemed a little tired too (lots of chores as part of her job?)._  
_Job – serving girl and helps Ell._  
_No threat._  
_Stevie:_  
_Same age as Lena, dirty brown buzzcut hair, 5’7”, dark blue eyes, scar by left temple, limp (from horse-riding accident?), mostly good health, country of origin – dark skin suggests Ustrana._  
_Fake smile (?) but loves Lena as much as she loves him._  
_Job – stable boy and spars/fights with Prince Sebastian._  
_Possible threat._  
_Meggie:_  
_40 – same as Queen, 5’8”, long faded blue hair, brown eyes, resting bitch face, bad back by her posture, otherwise good health, country of origin – perhaps Megarun but body shape suggests Eclole._  
_Bit stuck up/patronising/condescending but this might be because she seems to hate me – cares for Queen Rosamund and Princess Adaline a lot._  
_Job – handmaiden to the Queen._  
_No threat (at least not to the Princess)._  
I sighed as I finished writing, before hiding the notebook and pen under a loose floorboard that I had found. After I finished putting the board back in its place, I started reading one of Meggie’s three books, with a title of ‘A Handmaid’s Guide: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly’. Its name made me laugh the most out of all them, and as I started it was just as funny. Just like Meggie, it was patronising and haughty, but it had loads of tips on etiquette and information on noble families among other things. As I memorised the pages, I got stuck in on some of Rico’s sugary treats as I pulled Stevie’s fluffy blanket around me to try and get warm. I felt my eyes closing several times as the hours went on, so I quickly put gifts onto the floor so I wouldn’t fall asleep on them. I wrapped myself in the two blankets, before snuggling into my thin duvet and resting my head on the thread-bare pillow, falling asleep in seconds.


End file.
